


Hell Is Not a Place on Earth

by ezpzlemon



Series: Killugon Collection [4]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: (slightly) Unreliable Narrator, Angst, Dark fic, Gon just loves Killua and Killua just loves Gon, M/M, More tags to be added, Multi, Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Pining, Post-Canon, Psycho Kite, Slightly-concerned Gon, Supernatural Elements, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Unhealthy Relationships, a few references to the manga post-anime, but all you really need to know is the 2011 anime, pretty spooky, though Gon's sanity is a little iffy as well, writing the end of HxH because Togashi will never do it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:13:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25744903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezpzlemon/pseuds/ezpzlemon
Summary: Bartering is a delicate art; Gon Freecss is an indelicate boy. He made a deal, once, to give up all his life and potential in return for one ant’s death. He can’t make a deal to get it back, not in the same way.The fact of the matter is that if Gon wants his Nen back, he’s gonna have to pry it out of the Devil’s cold, dead hands.Luckily for him, this can be arranged.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Kaito | Kite, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Series: Killugon Collection [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/823140
Comments: 40
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was reading [this post](https://hunterxhell.tumblr.com/post/177325514147/itsybitsyjoltik-submitted-to-hunterxhell-i) on tumblr about how mangastream mistranslated chapter 345 (in which Ging says Gon would be ungrateful if he wanted his Nen back), and how a more accurate translation would have Ging tell Gon that if he wanted his Nen back, "there'll be hell to pay"
> 
> And I was like, "wow, cool! but what if we pretended it was... literal???"
> 
> So yeah. Here's a hypothetical universe where Hell exists, there's a way to go there, and Satan may or may not be able to give Gon his Nen back
> 
> I know it sounds weird, but give it a shot. This story is gonna go in all kinds of crazy directions

The rag squeaks across the glass. And again. Back and forth.

Gon has done it all. The dishes, the laundry, the dusting, the homework. And yet Mito aggressively washes his bedroom window with that look of unspoken dissatisfaction—unspoken only because she doesn't yet know how to speak it, silence like the recession of water from the shore before an approaching tsunami. These are the only times Mito keeps quiet and the closest she’ll ever come to self-censorship.

“Why’re you washing the outside?” he asks.

“Why do you leave fingerprints all over both sides?” she answers.

 _Use the door, Gon._ Is that it?

* * *

When Gon leaves through his bedroom window again that night, he’s careful not to leave any prints on the glass.

And it’s the usual. A field of thick grass ripples in the breeze, cool and soft against his bare feet as he walks down the hill. He reaches the forest edge and enters the greater darkness without pause, without thinking. There is very little moon out, but Gon has good eyes.

This is where he starts to run. Darting through the trees and leaping over underbrush. When the impact of one stride sends him higher than the canopy, he simply lands on another tree’s springy boughs and starts jumping from branch to branch.

He makes it to his old hideout in record time. It’s not much—a hut propped up against a tree, some rope-swings he tied up, a patch of wildflowers transplanted from elsewhere on the island. There’s all his secret stuff, a bunch of boxes filled with notebooks and seashells and a million other things. And then he’s got a little garden fenced off, though it doesn’t really need the fence; the territorial foxbear tree-gougings that still mark the clearing scare most mammals away.

Time has not been kind to this little place. In Gon’s absence, the hut has caved in on one side, the garden choked with weeds. But still he doesn’t know if he wants to fix it.

If he fixed it, things would change, somehow. It would mean admitting he was really back again.

Gon walks away, neither chasing nor chased. At the northern shore he finds the highest cliff, and in standing on the edge he assumes a position both iconoclastic and suicidal. The sound of the ocean is as loud as it is intensely familiar, blurring childhood and older childhood with hypnotic ease. The waves eat the time like they eat drowning people. They’d eat Gon too, if they could.

It’s strange, how sometimes he wants to let them.

* * *

When Noko sees him, her face lights up brighter than anything.

“Gon!”

She’s the only daughter of a general store manager, with red braided hair and greenish eyes. She’s also the only other native islander around his age and the closest thing he has to a childhood friend. Mito used to set up play-dates between them in those early days, before it was clear that keeping up with Gon required more energy than most have to give.

“You came back,” she breathes after running up to him, teetering on the edge of his personal space. “Just like you promised! Like I knew you would!”

He already came back, once, but did not bother telling her, wholly absorbed in Killua's company for all that time. Perhaps he should feel guilty about this—but he doesn’t, not really. In any case, he’s grateful that Mito apparently didn’t mention his last visit home to anybody.

“I was wondering if you’d like to hang out with me today,” Gon says. “Go hiking through the outback and watch me work on stuff.”

She looks delighted at the offer, but the mention of the wilderness reigns her in. “The outback…?”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” her father calls from the back of the store. “Gon’s a full-fledged Hunter; he can protect you from all the beasties, no problem. Won’t ya, son?”

“Yessir,” Gon affirms. “Besides, I would never take her anywhere dangerous.”

“Then it’s a date!” the man laughs, and Noko’s blush drowns out all her freckles.

* * *

They make no stops along the way, but by the time they’ve finally made good progress through the forest, it’s already been two hours. Noko is slowing down even more as they scale another hill, panting through their discussion on the woes of correspondence school. Gon could wait for her. Maybe he _should_ wait for her.

He crouches down before Noko’s wobbly form, because maybe he doesn’t care about what he should or shouldn’t do. “Jump on my back! I’ll carry you.”

“You’ll—” she repeats as her eyes grow wide. “You w-wanna carry me?”

 _Is that wrong_ , he wonders. “Well, only if you’re comfortable with it,” Gon amends. “It’s fine if you’d rather keep going on your own.”

“… No,” she mumbles. “No, I’m… comfortable with it.”

So she climbs on, and they take off. Not even that fast at all, but steady and brisk. Noko doesn’t speak much during this time; she must still be catching her breath, evident from the way he can feel her heart hammering against his back. Finally, they reach Gon’s hideout, where the wood planks he chopped lie ready with a hammer and nails.

All he’s asked from her is company while he works on repairs, and that was all she agreed to. But still Noko insists on doing something, so she takes to the garden and starts to weed once Gon points out what the weeds are.

And it’s nice, he supposes, to have her with him. There’s not much room for talk under the constant banging of his hammer, but right now there’s no need for it, for dialogue to ease the natural friction of being two people alone together. Working side by side with someone is a peaceful thing, laden with solidarity. Is that what Gon’s looking for, here? Is that why he’s doing this?

The answer turns out to be no, as he’s not at all disturbed at the sound of Noko’s sudden screaming.

_“F-f-f-foxbear!”_

Kon spares the terrified girl a glance, lumbers up to Gon, and shoves his snout into Gon’s shoulder.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispers into his muzzle. “Yeah, I missed you too.”

Once he’s gotten his fill of the hug, Gon pops his head up to address the other human. “Don’t worry; Kon’s a friend,” he assures. “Besides, it’s the female foxbear who _really_ hate people, and his mate’s not around this time of year. So everything’s okay.”

Noko looks at him like he’s nuts. Gon’s quite familiar with that look.

“Alright, just watch,” he says, then tackles Kon down, growling a fake roar. Kon lets him climb atop his belly and rolls them around, nipping at Gon’s arm with an endless degree of restraint. Their play-fighting ends when he cartwheels off in a dramatic flourish.

“Look, look—I even taught him how to play rock-paper-scissors,” Gon says as he throws a fist out in Kon’s direction. Kon doesn’t let him down and answers with an open paw of his own.

Now the girl just looks amazed—as she should be. Kon is awesome.

“How did you—”

“Raised him from a cub,” Gon answers. “He lost his mother, so I stepped in.”

When he thinks of Kon, he still thinks of him as that little, ferocious orphan clawing up his arms. It’s strange that his mind should do this for Kon—now very different from the cub he once was—when it refuses to do so for everything else in his life that’s changed. But it’s not like Gon wants it to, anyways. He would no sooner deny the change in his life than he would deny the journey that brought him here.

“… Wow,” Noko whispers. “But I guess that’s just like you.”

* * *

And she talks about the things her mother sends from the mainland—candy, books, wood carvings, little toys—and talks about how she wants to follow in her footsteps as a freelance photographer. And she talks about how much she missed Gon when he left, like they were actually friends and not distant acquaintances. And she talks about how very proud Whale Island was of Gon, how everyone loves to wonder about him, how Mito apparently never goes a day at work without getting Gon-related questions. She talks like she’s wanted to do this for a very long time.

“Tell me about your adventures,” Noko eventually says. “I want to hear everything.”

The sun is going down, now. In a forest, the shadows don’t grow so much as they intensify, hanging thicker over the clearing as the daylight drains westward. Kon is soft as he dozes by his side; his only audience is the girl sitting across from them.

Gon supposes he should say something.

“I met a lot of people,” he begins. “So many friends I’ll never forget. It’s just… amazing, really, how I always had someone supporting me, no matter where I went or what trouble I got into. Maybe I just got lucky, or maybe the world really is that kind. I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“So… I was looking for Ging, for most of it. And that took me a lot of places. Heaven's Arena, the World Tree… Yorknew, for the auctions. Then, like… a video game in real life, on a secret island! That was fun. Yeah.”

As he flounders for the words, a ray of clarity suddenly shines down on him—the people, of course. Each face as bright and new in his mind as the day he first saw them.

“There was this person named Kurapika,” Gon recalls. “He was another rookie at my exam and one of the first to support me. Kurapika, he was… noble, I guess. Selfless and ethical, like a prince. His only goal was to get the people who hurt his family and take back the things they stole. I ended up meeting those people, and yeah, they were—a little scary. Way too strong. But they were just people, right? Bad people, crazy people, people I didn’t understand—but still there was something… normal about them. I didn’t think that Kurapika should hurt himself trying to kill them. So I tried to help them come to an agreement. I don’t know if it’s still around or not.”

“Then there was Leorio. Like Kurapika, another one of my first friends. He’s studying to be a doctor and one of the nicest guys I know. Like, he _cares,_ so much. He was really helpful in getting Kurapika to settle down, in the end. And he stood by my side when I was sick and did a bunch of stuff to help me get better. Just a funny, compassionate guy.”

“There was Bisky, who trained me when I was too weak to do the things I wanted to do. She’s super strong and smart and a little violent, but she’s… well, I don’t wanna say _motherly._ But she’s got a way of knowing just what you need and how to get it. Maybe like a big sister, how she’s fun to be around.”

“There was Zushi and Wing, who also trained me when I needed it most. Zushi’s, like, the only person I met who was even younger than me. But he’s hard-working and diligent—just really admirable. And Wing was kind enough to expect the same from me.”

“And then there was Ging, my dad, who I did find in the end. He was… everything I expected, I guess. Basically the best Hunter ever. Right now, he wants to go somewhere _especially_ amazing. I bet we’ll hear about it on the news—that he finally got over there and made some huge discovery, and how history is changed forever in ways us normal people will never understand.”

And then Gon finds himself with not much more to say, although there is still much more to say.

 _There were ants,_ he thinks to himself. _There were some I liked, and one that I hated._

Noko is quiet, waiting for more.

“There was this boy,” he murmurs. “A kid like me.”

“… Another friend?” Noko probes as Gon falls silent.

 _Yes and no_ were the answers to that. Yes, in that he was another friend; no, in that he was not just another friend. Yes, in that he embodied the very essence of _friend_ ; no, in that he exceeded the definition of _friend_ at every place it met its limit. “Best friend,” is how Gon corrects. “My best friend, who saved my life a million ways. Who… who saved me every single day I got to spend with him.”

It’s so dark now that he’s sure Noko can hardly see him. He waits for her to ask about a fire, or a flashlight, or maybe to just go home. But she doesn’t do any of that. All she does is focus through the dark to what must be his silhouette.

“What happened to him?” Noko asks.

Gon looks up to the sky and smiles.

“He found something he wanted to do. Someone else who he wanted to take care of.”

“… And he had to leave to go do that?”

“Yeah.”

Gon stands up, takes Noko’s hand, and brings her to her feet as well. It’d be fastest to just carry her home, so that’s what he plans to do.

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

The sensation of breaking off had been a strange one. Sometimes he still feels it resonating through his body, the steps forward that took him farther away. Sometimes he hears a voice lost in the chatter of the market at noon. Some mornings he wakes up, turns to his empty room, and is hopelessly, desperately, achingly surprised.

“He didn’t ask me to,” Gon answers truthfully.

* * *

Noko asks to be smuggled through her own bedroom window. Her dad’s probably asleep by now, and if she sneaks in the house without waking him up, he’ll never know how late she was really out.

“Thanks for telling me your story,” she whispers. “I hope I didn’t make you relive anything too painful.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gon quietly laughs. “It’s all over now, anyways.”

* * *

Ging had told him that he should be happy. That this is a good chance to figure out what he can do as he is now.

What can Gon still do without Nen? He’s still physically strong—can probably lift a good thirty tons, or maybe even more. He’s still pretty fast—getting faster, too, since he’s finally hit a growth spurt and his legs are lengthening out. Physical stamina hasn’t changed, nor has his flexibility, nor has his base resilience to damage. His healing factor is just as fast, his reflexes just as honed. His mind’s still (selectively) sharp and inventive, with an ability to _focus_ beyond what makes sense. He’s got the same superhuman senses with a nose that’s superdog.

Against anyone without Nen, he dominates. Gon is quite sure of that.

But life, of course, is more than just fights. What can Gon do as he is now? He can make Mito happy by going to school and Whale Island happy by being around. Free time can be spent keeping up with his friends through text and email. And he can, of course, do what Ging probably meant by all this: search for a new goal in life, one that suits the new Gon best.

Ging had told him that if he wanted any more, there’d be hell to pay.

Maybe he would pay it, if only he knew how.

* * *

“Gon?” Mito calls from somewhere downstairs.

It’s another day, another page of basic algebra. On his own, it’s hard, but Knuckle eagerly answers whatever questions Gon sends. The man’s got his math down tight; Gon wonders if he was an accountant or something before he turned Hunter. Or maybe a loan shark, knowing him.

“ _Gon,_ ” Mito calls again. “There’s a girl at the door for you!”

It’s Noko, probably. Although, shouldn’t Mito have recognized her if that were the case? Gon rises from his desk and makes his way downstairs.

And there is indeed a girl at the door. Just a little taller than him, with long, tangled hair a dark shade of crimson. He gets a good look at her face and sees— _oh, not a girl. Not a girl at all._

“Hi, Gon,” Kite says. “Got a minute?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you happy here, Gon?”

Kite is soundly tackled with a hug.

“ _Kite, you’re back, you came back for me_ —”

Gon is allowed his hug a few seconds more before he’s firmly peeled off, pulled by his shoulders. But that’s fine—how could it be anything but fine? Because it’s _Kite_ , back from the abyss of pixels on screens, Gon’s first visit from anyone in who knows how many months. Whatever on earth he’s here to say, Gon will listen harder than he’s ever listened before.

Not just because they’re friends, though. Because Gon has always had a sacred liability when it comes to Kite. He doesn’t know if there’ll ever come a time when he doesn’t feel he owes the man something.

But it’s not an uncomfortable debt. It makes him happy to have something important to work towards.

“Nice to see you too,” Kite answers and gives his shoulders a pat. “I’ll ask again: do you have a minute?”

“Yeah!” Gon exclaims. “Come in; I’ll make you some tea!”

But Kite stays put, eyeing Mito’s cautious form as she watches from within the house. “Maybe somewhere else? It’s sensitive information.”

And how could Gon ever say no?

* * *

The wooded hinterlands of Whale Island are as green as ever today. Sun-dappled and spring-warm, with birdsong mingled interchangeably with Gon’s bright chatter. They walk quite a ways into the wilderness, way farther than was necessary to simply ensure their privacy. Gon doesn’t think too hard about what could be so secret that even Mito couldn’t be allowed to hear; he just walks and talks, easy as breathing.

“So how have you _been,_ really, though? I mean it’s been so long, and you’re even taller than me again—”

“Are you happy here, Gon?” Kite interrupts.

Suddenly, they’ve stopped walking, and thus Gon has stopped talking. With a start, he turns to look back at the ant. Kite is too sober for this joyous occasion, receiving Gon’s surprised look with almost pained severity.

“You’re not, right?” Kite continues.

What an… odd thing to ask.

Odd because Gon has been nothing but overwhelmingly cheerful for all that Kite’s seen of him here, and odd because almost no one ever doubted the happiness of Gon Freecss. Happy? Happy was the default. He didn’t need a reason to be happy; it was the other emotions that needed environmental input. Without a concrete foundation for his unhappiness, Gon could only ever be happy.

Maybe the thing burning beneath his skin was the weight of a concrete foundation.

“… It’s strange,” he says. “Sometimes I’m… happy, I guess—or, more like I feel there’s nothing stopping me from being happy—and I can go through life real' easy, and just do the things I think I should do. But other times… I dunno. It’s just different. Like I’m… hungry. And I can’t sit still. And I just want to…” Die? Kill? Maim? Fly? “To jump in a tornado or something.”

The ant simply nods. “Of course you feel that way. You’re not the kind of person who thrives in stasis.”

He phrases it like it’s not his fault. But that doesn’t mean it’s not Gon’s problem to fix.

“I’m getting better,” Gon insists. “Really, I am! I’m moving on. I’m thinking of all kinds of new futures for me. I even made friends with a girl.”

“That’s not ‘moving on,’” Kite flatly replies. “That’s grabbing hold of something in desperation. Face it—you’re wasting away, here. It’s just too small of a cage to shove yourself into. And subconsciously, you’ve always known it, that you can’t survive in this place; even if you hadn’t wanted to be a Hunter or chase after Ging, you still would’ve found a different reason to leave.”

But Gon remembers a different time. A time when he returned with Killua, and every day spent here was like the sun-drenched days of Eden.

“It’s so obvious that you’re decaying,” Kite says. “I can see it so clearly on your face.”

And Gon has to wonder to himself, _do I really have a face like that?_

“… Why did you come to see me, Kite?”

Kite takes a good look at him, searching for something, and it’s not clear whether he wants Gon to have it or not.

“Think about what I said, for a while. I’ll tell you everything when I get back.”

* * *

Since their abrupt parting in the middle of that forest, Kite’s been hard to find. Gon has to assume he’s somewhere on the island—he still needed to tell him whatever it was he came here to say—but none of the other townspeople have seen anyone with his description, and the outback is simply too large and dense for Gon to make a comprehensive search.

In the meantime, there’s Mito to deal with, who very pointedly does not ask about who the little redhead was or what they left to discuss. Gon tries to explain that this was his good friend Kite, and that he meant no disrespect in implying that Mito couldn’t be trusted with his message, but it doesn’t put any ease on her weary face. “It’s your own business,” she sighs. “You can keep it.”

What she’s more upset about is his relationship with Noko, for some reason, when he casually mentions that he’s been spending time with her. No longer is Gon’s life _his own business_ ; there’s a classic Mito Freecss vitriol firing up that sends him down memory lane, back to the days Mito thought she could ward him off from danger with her anger alone.

“Don’t play with a girl’s heart!” she exclaims. “Just terrible, getting her attached to you when you know you’re just gonna leave again, like you’ll always end up leaving whenever you come back here. Do you plan on taking her with you, then?—don’t answer that; I know you won’t. You’ll just walk out on her life one day, leaving her to wonder why. ‘Why didn’t he want me by his side.’ ‘Why wasn’t I enough for him.’ And there’ll be no answer.”

It’s true that he hadn’t considered that. He’d thought there could be no harm in just having fun with someone.

“… Ging really hurt you, didn’t he?” Gon observes, inviting a rush of embarrassment over Mito’s face.

“That’s _it_ —no dinner, no games, no nothing—”

And that’s how Gon learns that he needs to find a good way to tell Noko goodbye.

* * *

“You know I’m gonna leave someday, right?”

He could probably say the same about every place he’ll ever see. It seems all too plausible, the idea of him hopping around the world, forever chasing the next thing to catch his eye. Maybe he should get good at having talks like these.

“And it won’t have anything to do with you,” he carries on. “It’s just who I am. Nobody’s fault.”

Noko is understandably cautious. “… Why’re you saying this, all of a sudden?”

And what else could he tell her but the truth, when the truth was not beyond what he could expect her to understand? “A lot of people have been bringing it up lately,” Gon replies. “About how I should prepare for when I leave again. Not soon, or anything; I don’t have any plans right now. But yeah. Someday, it’ll happen.”

She hums a little, arms crossed behind her. When it comes to being told things, Noko is not like him, who often only takes information at face value. It reminds him of Killua in a way that doesn’t hurt; a deep measure of fondness wells up in his chest.

“Would Kite happen to be one of these people?”

Of course he had told her about Kite being back. He could hardly keep the news to himself, texting it excitedly to everyone he knew. So she knew there was someone named Kite who visited him, along with a brief, heavily-edited version of his and Gon’s history.

“Er, yeah,” he sheepishly laughs. In an effort to respect Kite’s insistence for secrecy, he hadn’t mentioned what they’d talked about, but it looks like he accidentally gave it away. Oh, well.

Leaning back against the hillside, Noko breathes a thoughtful sigh. “So Kite told you that you should leave, then ran away himself,” she ponders. “I wonder why that is. Especially since you agreed with him.”

And thus, a little nagging thought was born: _Is it because I didn’t agree with him?_

* * *

So when Kite does finally return (this time knocking on his bedroom window, right at the crack of dawn), Gon is quick to throw open the window and whisper all his apologies: how Kite was right, he was sad and restless, and he can’t get better while he’s staying at home like this, and he needed something new to do, and so Kite could tell him anything he wanted without feeling like Gon would argue with him, and please oh please would Kite forgive him.

“Easy, Gon,” Kite whispers back. “I wasn’t testing you or anything. I always knew you’d come to see it my way. There was just something I had to go do before I can take you with me.”

And with that, a bit of relief floods him, realizing that it wasn’t his fault. So Kite really _had_ left the island, then, and wasn’t waiting in silence for him to come to some personal realization on his own. Gon was just getting carried away again, like he always did.

More importantly, there’s his rising intrigue at the confirmation that Kite did indeed plan to take him somewhere.

So they return to the forest that so graciously took them the last time, with Gon leaving a note for Mito explaining the situation. Along the way, something clicks in Kite’s eyes, and suddenly, it’s time.

“There’s a new chimera ant colony in Meteor City,” he reveals. “Some people want to drive us out; we don’t want to leave. So we’re looking for allies. I suggested you.”

There’s a million questions that follow that statement. This one might not be the most important, but it is the first that comes to mind: “Why me?”

“You beat Pitou,” Kite states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “ _Destroyed_ it, more like, from what I heard. Of course I would pick you.”

… Oh. From that perspective, it did make sense.

Poor Kite. Coming all this way for nothing.

“You don’t understand,” he tries to explain. “I could only do that because I—gave up everything. I wasn’t supposed to have a life like this, after I was done. But Killua found a way, somehow, and now I can’t use Nen anymore.”

No matter how hard he tries, he cannot. And he’s tried.

Yet Kite simply shakes his head. “You misunderstand me,” he says. “I want you as an ally _because_ you’re the type of person to throw it all away. You think that’s an easy choice to make? It’s not. Most people could never do it, no matter how furious or desperate or hopeless they were. It’s a very special quality that you have, Gon. I could make good use of it.”

“But I—”

“Not only that,” Kite resumes, “but you did it all for me, because you thought I was gone forever. You know how that makes me feel? It makes me feel _good._ It makes me feel like I have—some sort of a foothold in this world. Like I’m _real_ , and not just some dream about to be forgotten. You’re obviously so loyal to me. Why shouldn’t I have you follow me, when that’s what you already want to do?”

“Ki—”

“And you _are_ strong, Gon. I wasn’t convinced of it back then, but now I’m sure. And you have the potential to grow so much more—”

“ _I can’t use Nen,_ ” Gon slowly and loudly articulates.

“Sure you can,” Kite claims. “Just not in any way you’re familiar with.”

Gon’s next sentence dies out in his throat.

He didn’t know it was possible to hear something like that. Something he didn’t know he wanted to hear—didn’t even know he was looking to hear. Who knew that words could be put together in a sentence like that? A light at the end of the tunnel, so faint one might doubt as to if it was really there—but it was coming from _Kite,_ so didn’t it have to be real?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he finally asks.

Kite’s eyes squint in a smile, though his mouth hardly quirks up at all.

“Are you ready?”

“For—”

“I _said,_ are you ready?”

And Gon officially has no idea where this conversation has gone. He doesn’t know what they’re talking about. He doesn’t know what Kite means.

“… Yes,” he finally replies, finding that it was only his socially normative grain that kept him from immediately agreeing. Because unfortunately, the truth is that if anyone, anywhere, at any time of day were to randomly ask him, _Gon, are you ready?_ , his first and only instinct would be to say: _Yes. Bring it on. I want to see._

So Kite takes Gon’s hand and raises it to his mouth. The air starts to hum with a nameless potential. The mouth cracks open—

And oh, wow, Kite has very sharp teeth. It’s not as obvious when he’s talking, but when he holds still like this—they’re like _shark_ teeth, cruel and hooked, but with various sizes that culminate in four lengthy incisors, much like the maw of a wolf. On the outside, Kite might be a dainty mouse girl with his cute little tail, but this? This is the undeniable mouth of a carnivore. The predator incarnate, born to consume what tries to run.

Gon doesn’t try to run. He watches hypnotized as Kite draws his index finger further into his mouth, opening wider—and sees that Kite has two rows of teeth. No, wait, maybe even a third—how does he even _talk_ with a mouth like this—

 _Oh,_ he realizes as Kite's jaw starts to close. _I’m going to lose my finger._

 _My finger,_ he laments to himself, and is it so strange that he started to grin? Anticipation stirring up like thrill, not enough recoil to truly be called fear. The skin finally breaks top and bottom on each joint—

And deep within, at the center of his chest,

Heralded by a rising, screaming sense of wrongness and invasion,

Something seizes him and _pulls_ —

It’s burning, he’s burning, everything’s burning; it’s metal screeching in his ears; it’s flesh dancing right off the bones; it’s teeth that tear and chew all the way down to the soul and still refuse to stop. It surges down every limb, flash-boiling his blood, acidifying his breath, and the only constant left in this world is Kite’s purple eyes staring straight through him—

 _(What kind of person has aura like this)_ _  
_ _(Since when has Kite’s aura been like this)_

Hell could not be worse than this, not even the very worst Hell saved for the very worst person, not even the Hell they saved for Pitou—

 _(Oh I did not know you were so hungry Kite)_ _  
_ _(What is death what is death what is)_

And just as Kite finally blinks, it’s gone.

Gon falls to his knees, gasping for breath. A great, sprawling emptiness unfurls within him in place of the thing (what was it?) that had taken hold. Yes, the pain (was it pain?) has disappeared, and his hindbrain instinctively snaps down on the memory, rejecting it, banishing it, _never think about that ever again._ Right now, there’s nothing but his body and the soft, patient ground. It’s okay, it’s over, he’s safe, he’s whole…?

He’s cold.

He’s very cold.

But his finger, it’s… still there, somehow. Just covered in bloody pinpricks.

“Get up, Gon,” a voice calls to him.

He rises to his shaky feet.

“You’re okay,” Kite tells him. “You did well.”

“ _Wha_ —” he chokes out, throat rawer than mere sickness can make.

“It’s true that you can’t use your Nen,” Kite says. “But other people and things can use it _for_ you just fine. You need a different you to take the reigns, separate from yourself. I gave you something like that.”

Gon tries to make sense of it, and shakes his head in mindless confusion.

“Parasitic Nen,” Kite explains. “A Guardian Spirit Beast, some people call it. It feeds on your Nen and acts on its own—as in, you can’t control it. You can’t even see it, though other people can if they use Gyo. But it’ll do its best to protect and serve you, using your Nen freely to accomplish that. And everything about it, from its form to its nature to its abilities, is based on you.”

But still it’s just too much to take in.

“I chopped off a piece of your soul and tied it to you like a balloon,” Kite tries to explain again. “It’s still _you_ —still wants the same things you want, still feeds off your pool of Nen—but it has its own will, its own innate Nen abilities, all that stuff. It’s gonna look after you in its own special way, for the rest of your life. Your very own guardian angel.”

 _You didn’t “chop” it off,_ a distant, dumbstruck part of him thinks. _You bit it off. With your teeth._

A guardian angel. Made out of his soul. The soul that Kite bit off.

“… And I have that now,” Gon slowly states.

“Yes,” Kite replies. “Right behind you.”

He turns around but, of course, sees nothing there. Apparently, he’ll never be able to see it, even if he had the Nen for Gyo. There’s this guardian angel that can use his Nen for him, and he can’t even confirm if it’s really there.

Perhaps that’s not so bad, though. His life is full of invisible things he chooses to believe in. What’s one more to add to the pile?

After all, the information was coming from Kite. So he could believe it. He _does_ believe it.

“What… does it look like?” he tentatively asks.

Kite takes a step back to better appraise, hand on his chin.

“… Its eyes are closed,” the ant remarks, and refuses to say any more.

* * *

But Gon is still badly shaken, in a way he’s never been shaken before. It’s not fear or panic, but it carries a degree of disconnect between himself and his surroundings, like he just can’t bring himself to come out of his shell. Nonetheless, Kite has nothing but praise for him. _Most people would still be out cold,_ he says. _Damage to the soul isn’t easily weathered._

At the ant’s insistence, they start walking in circles just to scare some feeling back into Gon’s legs. All he can hear is the steady, nearby cadence of Kite’s voice as he talks about nothing, but then sounds from further away start to reach him, from their footsteps to the wind in the trees. Smells hit him all at once, animals and plants and ocean breeze popping into olfactory view like a God willing the world into existence. Kite tosses him an apple and commands him to eat; Gon obediently digs in, with each stale, watery bite taking him a step closer back to the realm of taste.

It’s not long at all before he’s finding the strength to dig up his own voice and respond to some of the things Kite’s saying. _Yes, I also think the weather’s been good; no, I don’t think people should get married if they don’t really love each other._ Simple things, little things. He’s feeling more like himself with every minute.

“So you’re coming with me, right?” Kite abruptly asks. “Back to Meteor City.”

Gon slowly gives a nod. Of course he would try to help Kite in any way he could. If that meant going to Meteor City, then that’s what he would do. That’s why he has this guardian angel: so he can still be helpful without access to his Nen.

But apparently he didn’t nod convincingly enough, because Kite stakes a hand through his bangs and heaves a heavy sigh. It’s times like these that Gon most feels like a kid, helpless but to disappoint those around him, not knowing what’s expected of him and desperate to figure it out.

“Killua’s there,” Kite suddenly says.

He turns his head at Gon’s silence, casting a sidelong glance at him through long, red lashes.

“He’s been there for a while, now,” the ant continues to say. “Helping out on our side, of course.”

“Killua… is?” Gon quietly asks.

“That’s right. And while I’m willing to stick around here as long as it takes, I don't think we should keep him waiting longer than we need to. He knows I came to get you—asked me to tell you to hurry up and join him.”

And just like that, he’s no longer shaken. He is the one who shakes.

“ _He—he said that?!”_ Gon practically shouts. “Really?! You mean it?!”

“Really,” Kite says.

“You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” Kite says.

“B-but… what about Alluka? Doesn’t he have to take care of her?”

“… Who?” Kite asks.

“Alluka! Killua’s little sister!”

“Oh,” Kite replies. “I wasn’t told about any little sisters. But it’s possible that she’s there, too, somewhere. It’s a big place. Lots of people.”

Gon is positively overflowing, now. He couldn’t believe it—but he could, because it was coming from Kite—that Killua was out there, wanting to see him, _waiting_ for him, even—!

“So are you ready to leave, yet?” Kite asks.

“ _Yeah!_ What are we waiting for?! Let’s go, right now—”

Kite smiles that strange smile again, careful not to open his mouth.

* * *

Giving his goodbyes to Mito is easy; he’s an old pro at it, by this point. There is, of course, the condition that he’ll bring all his schoolwork with him and send it regularly to the education board, but that should be no problem. Meteor City’s got to have _some_ sort of postal service, even if only an illegal one.

It’s Noko who he’s worried about. He’d made the mistake of implying that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon; Mito’s reprimands echo through his mind.

“So this is goodbye,” he says. “Sorry.”

The face Noko makes is not one of crushed realization. It’s a look of understanding, and then determination.

“It’s okay,” she replies. “Because you already came back, once. So I know you’ll be back again.”

They end it with a handshake and a heartfelt promise: _I will see you again._

* * *

And so Gon left his little island home, blissfully unaware of the fact that he would never return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those of you who haven't been following the manga, Guardian Spirit Beasts are an actual thing that gets established. Kite basically performed his own version of the Seed Urn Ceremony, in which someone sticks their finger in the mouth of this weird urn (which has an open mouth welded onto the side), offers it a drop of blood, and gets a spirit beast in return. The proper ceremony doesn't hurt the person, but Kite is not so gentle.
> 
> Thanks for reading! PLEASE let me know what you thought of it!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absence makes the heart grow fonder; if this is fondness, he can’t imagine love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER SUMMARY (so you don't have to reread):
> 
> —Kite says that he's working for a new chimera ant colony in Meteor City. There's some kind of trouble over there, and he wants Gon to help them out with it  
> —Kite gives Gon a Guardian Spirit Beast... somehow. Gon often refers to it as his "guardian angel," and it's described by Kite as "having its eyes closed"  
> —Kite says that Killua is waiting for Gon in Meteor City  
> —They both leave Whale Island for Meteor City

Gon’s phone has become very special to him. It was his only tie to his friends during those long, isolated months, after all. Of course he takes good care of it, keeps it with him all the time, sleeps with it under his pillow.

Gon’s phone is a graveyard.

If you go to the top of his conversations, you’ll see a thread he visits at least twice a day. It’s an endless, one-sided litany of _good morning_ _’_ s, _good night_ _’_ s, _how are you_ _’_ s; _school is kinda hard;_ _how is Alluka doing today;_ _hope you find your phone again soon._ At the very bottom of the thread, there’s one new message that stands out from the rest:

> you never told me you were in meteor city!!!!!

And, of course, there is no reply.

* * *

“Oh, and this is…?”

“Koala’s his name,” Kite answers. “Don’t mind him; he’s just a… helper.”

To reach Meteor City, they first need to take a boat to the United States of Saherta. Then all that’s left is some flying/driving rigamarole across the country, which should go by fast. It’ll depend on how cooperative the airports are, apparently.

But first, the boat. It’s a rare instance indeed for one of the vessels stopping at Whale Island to be going where you want it to; most often, one must resign themselves to getting off at a random city and making their way from there. So, in the interest of time, Kite’s arranged for a ship to bring them straight to Saherta with no other stops, manned by a small crew he personally chose for the job.

There’s only one other passenger aboard who doesn’t seem to be a sailor. He’s a short, pink-furred, tuxedo-wearing koala of a chimera ant, apparently also named Koala.

“Cool! I’m a helper too!” Gon chirps.

It will take six days for the ship to reach its destination. When Gon mentions that it’d be faster to stop at a city with an airport and take a blimp the rest of the way, Kite informs him that international air travel to Saherta is currently suspended and probably will be for some time.

When he asks why, all Kite says is that it’s dangerous right now, and that the details aren’t important.

Gon accepts this explanation without a second thought.

* * *

Later that night, the boy is asleep, and Koala is alone with his master.

“So this is the kid you were talking about?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“… Seems pretty young.”

“He is young. Barely even a teenager.”

Koala can’t even remember being a teenager. To him, youth is this far-off, otherworldly substance that defies understanding, ruined at the slightest unclean touch.

When looking at the boy, he can’t help but see the tragedy of it all, though he knows these thoughts should be beyond him.

“How long do you think he’ll last?”

Kite laughs and says, “Longer than you.”

* * *

On the first morning that meets him in his tiny cabin, Gon is quick to find that Koala is not the sociable type. Never before has he met such a brick wall of a person—someone who refuses to respond to him at all, not even sparing the words to tell him to bugger off. That’s fine, though; Gon has plenty of time to wear him down.

With the thought of their inevitable friendship in mind, he skips out to the front of the bow and leans over the railing. This ship is fast, far faster than the ones that bore him to the Hunter Exam and back home again. Maybe this is what a roller coaster is like; it was once his dream to ride one, wasn’t it? Back before Kite taught him to dream of bigger things. 

Laughter bubbles up at the memory. Such a kid, back then. And somehow, still such a kid now.

“Hey, Gon! Hold still for a second,” Kite’s voice calls from somewhere behind him.

So Gon holds still, perfectly comfortable, and relishes the joy felt at Kite asking something so simple of him. Three gunshots sound off in the background, but he doesn’t flinch. He only turns around once Kite tells him to.

Directly behind him, he finds three bullets frozen in the air. Then they fall to the floor with a clatter.

“That’s good,” Kite says, smoking gun in hand. “It protected you.”

“You mean… my guardian angel?”

“Yeah. Some Spirit Beasts can’t deal with physical threats like that; they’re either too weak, don’t have the right temperament, or exist in a form that can’t take action. But it seems that yours has got what it takes. I had a feeling it would.”

So Kite had made him hold still, shot at him, and… _ooooh._ It caught the bullets, didn’t it? Just caught them automatically, without Gon even aware of any danger. It must really have a mind of its own, then, just like Kite said it would. And Kite… must’ve had a lot of faith that it could protect him like that.

Well, even if his angel _had_ been too weak to protect him, and Gon ended up dying, that probably just means he wouldn’t have been much help in the first place. And he probably could’ve survived it, anyways, right? So it was fine. Totally fine.

_(What the hell, Gon, you crazy idiot—are you trying to get yourself killed—)_

… It’s strange, having no one around to rant at him about stuff being dangerous. That’s the only thing he didn’t think he’d miss—yet here he is, missing it. Stumbling over the silence, unable to say anything. The empty space of Killua is a chasm like no other, something he could throw the whole world into and still never see filled.

(Absence makes the heart grow fonder; if this is fondness, he can’t imagine love. Sometimes it fills his mind to the brim—Killua, Killua. He sees Killua—he feels Killua—)

This angel might actually be pretty cool, huh?

“Wow,” he remarks. “What else can it do?”

If Kite noticed the hitch in Gon’s composure, he chooses not to acknowledge it.

“That remains to be seen. It definitely has at least one Nen ability, though. When the ability’s conditions are met, I’m sure the Beast will use it.” He then focuses off somewhere in the middle distance, presumably to where the angel is. “Looks like it’s an Enhancer like you—pretty good at throwing its aura around. Well, _your_ aura, that is to say.”

Right, since they share the same pool of Nen. Gon didn’t actually lose his aura; he just can’t reach it, anymore. The angel, however, doesn’t have this problem.

“How’d you even give me this thing, anyways?” Gon inquires. “Were Spirit Beasts always part of your Hatsu, or…?”

“What, you mean _Slots?_ No, no, no. The old me couldn’t dream of pulling off something like this,” Kite claims. “I took the body of the Ant King’s twin sister, Gon. I can do so much more with Nen now, it’s not even funny.”

“So—you’re even _stronger_ now?!”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

What a crazy thing to think about. And Kite was already so strong to begin with!

“Do you prefer it, then?” Gon asks. “Being an ant?”

He wouldn’t have asked that, though, if he’d known how the question would wipe the expression off Kite’s face. The silence between them grows strange and heavy; suddenly, Gon’s being _looked_ at, and something about it has him instinctively reaching for the aura he can no longer feel.

It’s as if a door slammed shut and another one slammed open. There’s no trace to be found of anything he’s familiar with.

“… That remains to be seen,” Kite finally replies.

Since Gon does not understand it, he assumes he touched on a sore spot and rushes to make amends. “ _Sorry!_ That was insensitive of me, wasn’t it? I wasn’t thinking; I—”

“It’s fine,” Kite interrupts. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I was just surprised.”

“O-oh… okay, then. That’s good. I just—”

“Can you shoot?”

“Wh—”

“A gun,” Kite says. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

* * *

Thus begins his days spent training with the guns that, apparently, were brought aboard for this purpose. It’s undeniably a wise move; Gon can’t rely on his angel for everything, after all.

His instruction is delegated to Koala, who is intensely dedicated to the whole affair. Over and over, with mechanical patience, he guides him through the stats on each firearm, like their strengths/weaknesses and how they each work. At first, Gon is overwhelmed at the task of memorizing all this on top of his daily cramming for school. But if it’s for Kite, he can make anything work—and lo and behold, he does.

Semi-automatic, fully automatic, pump, burst, or bolt. Caliber is the diameter of the barrel; bigger numbers mean stronger shots; different calibers need corresponding bullets. Handguns and rifles and shotguns, one machine gun and one carbine. Ranges of accuracy. Put in the bullet, magazine, cartridge. Center-fire vs. rim-fire vs. shotshell. Safety on and off. Attachments on and off. Trigger discipline. And a million other things.

It’s best to aim carefully, even when it seems like he needs to move fast. The further away his target, the more impactful wind and gravity becomes. He should turn with his body, not his arms. What’s more troublesome than the recoil is the noise; even with a silencer on, each shot is so _loud_ to Gon’s sensitive ears. If there’s anything that television has tricked him about firearms, it’s the idea that they could ever not be deafening.

Now with ear plugs, he just works on his aim and draw with the glock. Koala says it’ll be easier once they get on dry land, where the ground is steady, but Gon still manages to hit the targets well enough. Much of shooting depends on one’s physical self-mastery, situational awareness, and composure under pressure—all of which are counted among his strengths. So it’s not long at all before he’s landing every shot on the bullseye and shattering every clay pigeon thrown his way. Soon he’s doing the same while running, jumping, and turning.

Koala gives no indication that he’s surprised by Gon’s incredible learning curve. It’s like he already knows to expect it from him.

* * *

“When you’re facing a Nen user, things will be different,” Koala asserts. “Their aura can absorb the impact of the bullet. Depending on their Ten and the caliber of your gun, you might not do any damage at all.”

“So… if I think I’m fighting a Nen user, I should run away?”

The ant nods. “Yes, so make sure you—”

“Wrong.”

Staring down at them from the upper deck, Kite makes for a striking figure against the endless blue sky.

“That’s when you charge at them,” Kite says. “Stick the barrel of your gun through their aura, right up against their body, then shoot. That way there won’t be enough aura in the way to stop the bullet, and you’ll only be countered by Enhancer techniques that fortify the body itself.”

Gon nods, understanding; Koala draws into himself as he bows his head in apology. It’s somehow such a sad look, this penitence crowning his grave demeanor. Gon is struck with an urge to place a hand on his shoulder—but the ant rights himself before he can.

“Now that your marksmanship’s in order, I want you to start playing tag: chase after Koala and try to stick a gun to him. Get experience with closing in on Nen-augmented targets. When you succeed, try it again with him attacking you instead.”

A new style of fighting, then. Instead of chaining hits to suppress his opponent, he just wants to end it with a single… shot.

As Kite turns away, something occurs to Gon that probably should have a long time ago. “Wait,” he calls out. “With all this shooting stuff… are you saying I might have to—”

_—kill someone?_

But Kite’s already gone, so Koala is the one to tell him, _yes._

* * *

It’s not like anything’s really changed. There have always been situations where he _might_ have to kill someone. Gon’s not especially affected by the possibility.

He knows now that murder exists as an option for a reason. Besides all the cases where there _is_ no choice—like when it’s in self-defence—there are the times when you do have to choose it. In these cases, it’s not meant to be done for your own sake; you do it because some people (or creatures) need to die. You do it because you refuse to _not_ let yourself kill them. Even if it ruins you.

All life has value. But sometimes death is worth more.

At long last, he can understand Kurapika.

What seems wrong to him, then, (besides the murder of innocents) is killing just because you want to or just because you can. Having this belief is important, since taking a life need not be difficult—something he first realized during the Hunter Exam, when Killua ripped out a man’s heart. The other examinees were shocked and disturbed; Gon was only struck by the normality of it all. That murder could be so mundane.

 _It doesn’t have to feel like anything,_ Killua once told him. _It’s just the act of snapping something when that thing happens to be a neck. Or pulling the trigger on a gun when it happens to be pointed at someone._

Oh, but if Killua had still wanted to kill, nothing would have changed between them. He could’ve ripped out a hundred more hearts, and Gon would still delight at the sight of his smile and take every opportunity to invade his personal space. Just like Killua wouldn’t judge him for choosing _not_ to kill and continue to stare at him whenever he thought no one would notice. Because they were perfect together.

* * *

“What kind of Hunter should I be, Kite?”

The question comes at the end of the third day, after searching everywhere for Kite yet again. These searches occur at every odd junction of free time in his schedule. In spite of them living together at close-quarters, the ant sure does spend a lot of time away from him—and that’s not what Gon wants, not at all.

What Gon wants is vague but full-bodied in intensity. He’s had a lot of time on Whale Island to consider his future, all the trajectories he could follow. Choosing a specific field of Hunter work is one of them; figuring out his desires would be the first step to that. And thus he came to this conclusion: the thing he wants most is new friends and old friends. Closeness to whoever he wants to be close to. Killua and Kite, most of all.

So they lean against the railing on deck together. Kite stares out to the passing sea.

“That’s not the sort of thing you can ask other people.”

Yeah, something in Gon had told him that he wouldn’t get a straight answer. Adults are just like that, sometimes.

“What do you mean?”

If it were Killua instead of Kite, he’d be tired of constantly explaining things by now; Kite doesn’t even blink as he patiently considers the question. “I mean, it’s something you have to decide for yourself. Being a Hunter is all about going your own way, after all. To listen to anyone else about it would sully the meaning.”

“Eh…?” Gon hums. “What kind of Hunter are you, then?”

“A Contract Hunter, in my old life. But recently I’ve made a transfer; now I’m a Beast Hunter.”

“Oh, why did you change it?”

“Because I’m going to kill Satan.”

“Huh, that’s—” Gon says, then pauses. “Wait, what?”

The boat’s wake abruptly splashes higher than the railing, the impact scattering water into mist and filling his ears with a sound close to static.

Kite’s eyes find his, and there’s something else like static reading out in the contact. Static electricity, perhaps. An undercurrent of energy unseen and unknown, leaping up into brightness at the moment it’s accidentally touched.

“When I died, I went to Hell,” Kite says. “And I met Satan.”

Gon considers this and finds that it raises way more questions than it answers.

Kite’s not joking, though. He’s never joked about anything.

“But, that doesn’t make sense,” Gon protests with a laugh. “ _You_ went to Hell? But you’re a good person! One of the best!” But Kite has no reply to this, and Gon is suddenly jumping to prove it. “You protected me so many times—saved me from that foxbear, gave your _own_ life to save me and Killua again—and then you even saved Spinner’s home just because she asked you to! And I’m sure you’ve done so much more good that I don’t even know about!”

There’s a new question that pops up right after saying that: _Has Kite done a lot of bad that I don’t know about, either?_

“Remorse is not enough,” Kite says simply. “As it turns out.”

As if repentance weighed nothing on the scale. As if the world had never really understood how the lives of people were measured.

Kite’s eyes are like flat stones laid over fire. They bore hard into Gon as they invisibly burn. There’s a terrible weight behind that look, one that leaves no room for doubt.

He’s not making this up. He really went to Hell.

“What _happened?”_ Gon asks with boundless wonder in his voice.

“… Don’t remember much of it. Only the parts with Satan looking down at me.” Kite finally turns away as his focus turns inward. “I couldn’t see him, but the way he felt was just… cursed. I knew he was there, and I knew it was him.”

Yet Kite doesn’t sound afraid.

“And then I was being pulled away by something. Like… water changing course, dragging me along. The last thing I remember is his voice calling out like a song: ‘ _May we meet again._ ’”

And in the silence that followed, Gon is left thinking that Satan doesn’t actually seem so bad. But then again, it’s _Satan;_ he was probably _trying_ not to seem bad.

 _May we meet again._ Bet he didn’t expect their reunion to feature Kite gunning for his head.

“Why do you want to kill him, then? Like, if he didn’t torture you or anything?”

“Gon,” the ant states. “When you come face-to-face with an ancient entity of limitless evil, what else are you thinking if not, ‘I wanna kill it’?”

That… seems strange to him. In theory, though, he supposes it could make sense—like wanting to fight a strong bad guy, maybe. Gon’s never been in that situation; maybe he would feel the same.

“And just think about the implications,” Kite enthusiastically demands. “Bringing back Satan’s corpse to our world, along with irrefutable proof that it was the real thing. How do different religions react to it? The ones that theorize an 'ultimate evil' like Satan can maybe legitimize themselves—but do they have to change, now that Satan’s dead? Does the concept of a punitive afterlife fall apart? What kinds of cults spring up in the aftermath? Do they let the body go where it may, or do modern-day crusades start over its ownership?”

Crusades? Cults? Legitimize? What?

“And then think scientifically!” Kite exclaims, wholly indifferent to the smoke coming out of Gon’s ears. “The blood and body of Satan. What could we do with that? What properties does it have? What could we learn from its constitution? And _then,_ there are Nen users who can pick the brains of corpses for memories—just imagine, getting to pick Satan’s brain! Learning all that he knows! The upper-dimensional geometry both macro and micro; getting to see far into the past, long before humans came to be—maybe even to the origins of the universe itself!”

“… Wow,” is all Gon can say.

This provokes a sudden burst of laughter from Kite. It’s a lovely, technicolor sound—a strange counterpart to the knife-like teeth it revealed—unrestrained and joyous in a way Gon could never have imagined coming from him.

It’s… the way Gon laughs, sometimes. It’s a kid’s laugh.

“It might be too much for you to understand,” he concedes. “It’s too much for _me_ to understand, in fact. But it’ll change the world; that’s for sure. And I want to see it. I want to know what’ll happen.”

This is the most passionate Gon has ever seen him.

“But what if something bad happens?” Gon wonders. “Like, if Hell breaks, or something? And all the bad people come pouring out?”

“They won’t,” the ant assures. “Satan’s not actually that big of a deal. Hell, heaven, the fabric of reality—all of it will carry on just the same.”

“Oh, does the bible say something like that?”

“The _bible?”_ Kite scoffs. “Half of the Christian bible is just post-classical topoi and theological posturing. No, I’m getting my information from a more reliable source. It’s also how I know that Satan has a physical body like ours, and that he can be killed. Not to mention about how there’s a way to go to Hell and back while you’re still alive.”

And Gon hadn’t even considered _that_ part of the equation. “What’s your source, then?” he has to ask.

This might’ve been sensitive information, though, because the ant stops to stare at him again. Gon wants to proclaim that he’d never betray Kite, that he’d always keep whatever secrets he saw fit to bestow—

But then, out of nowhere, a smile breaks out on Kite’s face. Not just any smile, but the one he’d give to Gon in the old days, indulgent and mature—and the resemblance is so clear and strong that Gon feels like he’s meeting him all over again. _There’s_ the Kite he used to know. _That’s_ the person who saved his life. Like he was there the whole time, and all the strange looks and childlike laughter were just shadows passing over the greater truth of himself, as temporary and unimportant as the clouds were to the sun.

It’s easy to believe this, and so Gon does. He believes and lets himself be relieved.

“Maybe I’ll tell you everything, someday,” Kite finally replies. “After we’ve actually gone to Hell, finished the job, and returned to bask in the results.”

“… ‘We?’” Gon inquires at the use of the plural.

“Oh, that’s right,” the ant remarks. “Forgot to mention—yeah, I’m taking you with me.”

* * *

_Someday, we’ll go to Hell._ That was the promise they made.

Was it strange that Kite so wanted a weak, Nen-less boy to join him? Possibly. Or maybe it was based on a faith in Gon’s talent and abnormality, that he was still someone worth gambling on. Someone who could pull off a miracle, whether that “someone” be Gon himself or the Spirit Beast that’d draw from all the things that distinguished him, all the forcefulness of his soul.

Or maybe it was because Gon was his most devoted friend, and Kite believed such loyalty would prove valuable. To be able to trust someone without hesitation, doing Kite’s bidding even when pointless or unprofitable.

Maybe it was all of that, or maybe all it took was the fact that he knew Gon would never say no.

Not that Kite was offering him a choice, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is mostly exposition. I'll try to focus more on the ~killugon~ in the next chapter
> 
> Leave a comment, and you'll make me a very happy girl


End file.
